


dactyl

by segmentcalled



Series: would it kill you? [2]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Anxiety, As you do, Being Walked In On, Blow Jobs, Communication, Communication Failure, Crying During Sex, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Having Important Conversations in the Shower, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Resolved Sexual Tension, Riding, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, but not actually, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: dac·tylnoun- a metrical foot that consists of one stressed syllable followed by two unstressed syllables.





	dactyl

**Author's Note:**

> even if the audience for this ship was only me i'd still keep writing it because it makes me happy tbh. i love these dorks even when they're disasters

Pat and Brian are friends. Of course they are! How can you do something like _Gill & Gilbert_ and not come out of it as friends. They hang out outside of work — not a lot, but sometimes. Go out for drinks after staying late at the office. Circle up on a weekend to work on a script and film some weird shit just for fun.

(Pat’s commitment to a bit is _remarkable_. He cracked an egg into his mouth for a thirty-second unedited video for Twitter and the second the take was finished, Brian collapsed onto the table, laughing, and Pat yowled in incoherent disgust and stuck his face under the kitchen sink.)

Pat talks about Griffin, sometimes. Brian thinks Pat tries to restrain himself; he gets the impression that Pat doesn’t want to be annoying, because he knows Pat and knows Pat doesn’t want to be obnoxious — but Brian loves to hear it. Pat lights up from the inside out whenever he talks about Griffin. Brian doesn’t know a ton about the history between them — he knows they got together right after Brian started at Polygon; Brian remembers vaguely overhearing Allegra talking about it — but, wow, Griffin moved to New York for Pat when he wouldn’t even do that for his _career_. They’ve been together for probably, gosh, more than a year now by Brian’s calculations, and the smile that crosses Pat’s face whenever Griffin comes up is the sweetest goddamn thing Brian’s ever witnessed.

Brian doesn’t see Griffin all that much anymore, now that he’s not working for Polygon, but he still swings by the office every once in a while to steal Pat away for lunch or bring him something he forgot at home or just say hi. He always stops to talk to Brian when he sees him, and Brian tries not to be too happy about it, tries not to overthink every interaction they have, just as he tries not to do with Pat.

This is hard, sometimes, because he likes them! He likes them both a lot, is the thing. A lot more than he rightfully should, if he’s willing to admit it to himself.

He… misses having a partner, alright? He hardly even knows what it’s like to have a partner that doesn’t live an ocean away, and now he doesn’t even have someone loving him from across the sea.

So, yeah, sue him, he stares dumbstruck at Pat a beat longer than necessary when Pat suggests that he should dance with Brian in the live show.

“It’s thematic, y’know?” Pat hastens to add. “Like, uh, like, there’s the bad guy who took something from you, but at the end you have a friend to, uh, to dance with you, like, it’s like the thing about the ones you catch being the most important — is this dumb you can tell me if it is —”

“No!” Brian says, finally finding his words. “No, no, I like that a lot! I was surprised that, uh. That you’d want to.”

“Hell, Brian,” Pat says, “I’ve done so many things with you I was scared shitless of. What’s one more?”

Pat is surprisingly shy about touching Brian. It’s like he didn’t realize that dancing with him might involve a lift — look, Brian’s got a flair for the dramatic, of _course_ it’s going to involve a lift — and also, Laura helped choreograph, so Brian has someone else he can blame on having the idea.

Brian is laughing, the first time Pat touches him. He doesn’t swoop in to grab Brian all willy-nilly, like a lot of men Brian’s danced with have done. It’s painfully sweet.

“How should I — where do you want my hands,” Pat says.

“Well, you’re gonna have to be over here first, c’mon. What you wanna do is put your arms around me like this — yeah, hah, that’s good, however feels natural.”

Teaching Pat how to touch him is — it’s something, alright. The hold they’ve managed to set up puts Pat’s hands over Brian’s pants pockets, and as soon as the thought about the possibility of getting hard and Pat noticing crosses his mind he regrets it, for the surge of heat that courses through him, settles low inside him.

They’re at Pat’s apartment, because it’s a Saturday, because Griffin is out and Laura didn’t want them making a racket after she’d been up way late last night. And make a racket they do; Pat lifts him and spins around and Brian comes back to earth laughing, and they do it again and again and Pat shows Brian this fun roll he can do and Brian makes him teach him how to do it too and it’s all very silly and lighthearted and wonderful, just wonderful, to be here with Pat Gill.

Brian collapses into the couch with drama when they elect to take a break; Pat sits down next to him, with a shy sort of smile. He runs a hand through his hair and — Brian swears to god — looks Brian over, in a way that is not, uh, not strictly the way friends do. Brian is suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that yeah, he is a little turned on, and yeah, a practiced eye might be able to tell, and the way his breath catches when Pat licks his lips is — well, it’s all very obvious, is the thing.

Pat shifts, just a little closer, and Brian mirrors him without even meaning to, like magnets coming into alignment.

And Pat kisses him.

It’s like fireworks go off inside him, excitement and anxiety both shooting adrenaline straight through his nervous system, and he gasps and his stupid hands react without thinking and grab Pat, hold him there, let Pat climb onto him without breaking the kiss and pull him down close so they’re pressed flush together.

He should stop. He should stop right now and check in and make sure that this is all Griffin-sanctioned but he — he trusts Pat, he does, he wouldn’t do this if Griffin didn’t give him permission — right? — even if he didn’t stop to text Griffin or tell him anything or even say a word first — he’d never — Brian’s sure he wouldn’t —

Pat rolls his hips down against Brian’s, and Brian doesn’t even mean to but he moans and arches up against him, panting already. He’s been talking himself out of a boner for the past hour and now he’s got Pat all up on him like this he wants it so bad, he wants _Pat_ so bad, he’s wanted Pat for so long that when Pat stops kissing him and mouths at his neck on the way to hiss _can I suck your dick_ into his ear there is not a single other word that his mouth or brain or heart can make except _yes_.

Pat slides off the couch and Brian sits up and lets Pat undo his pants, ruck his shirt up as he does; he presses bites and kisses into his hips, his belly, as he fumbles with the zipper. Brian shifts to let him slide his pants down his thighs and resettles, and Pat sucks a fierce bruise into his hip as he shucks Brian’s pants off his calves and deposits them somewhere on the floor.

He might be the worst person in the world for this, but he can’t bring himself to say something and ruin this, this one thing, this one beautiful brilliant moment, even though if he’s wrong it could ruin everything else. He’s being selfish and he _knows_ it, but he wants Pat worse than he’s ever wanted anything in the world and he cannot find it within himself to stop.

Brian’s cock is hard and leaking and Pat wastes no time in getting his mouth on him, takes as much of him into his mouth as he can in a graceful movement and Brian cries out. He shoves the knuckles of both hands over his mouth and whines against his hands as Pat bobs his head. He wants to say something — anything — dirty talk at him, praise him, fucking ask him if this is something his boyfriend condoned — but all that comes out of his mouth is incoherent sounds of pleasure.

It’s been a long fucking time since anyone else got their hands — or mouth — on him, and it’s so exquisitely fucking perfect that Brian can hardly bear it. Pat has a _gift_. He braces a hand against Brian’s hip as he tries to move in tandem with Pat, preventing him from rolling his hips in desperate shallow thrusts so instead Pat is in control of his movements, and between the pressure and the thumb pushing into the fresh bruise on his skin and the straight-up enthusiasm of Pat’s every action, Brian is catapulting towards the edge, feeling too good to even _think_, his brain filled nothing but the concept of Patrick Gill and desperate sounds spill from his lips and his chest heaves as he gasps for air and he _wails_, head thrown back, hands over his face, and Pat rolls with the way his whole body spasms and shakes and 

and

and the door opens with a clatter, and Brian’s whimpers choke off into pure horrified silence as he comes face to face with Griffin McElroy with his cock in Griffin’s boyfriend’s mouth

and everything goes straight to hell.

Brian flings himself away from Pat and sweeps the blanket off the back of the couch in one motion, covering himself and also cornering himself, pressed against the armrest with nowhere else to go, and Griffin is still standing there staring between them, between Brian and Pat who is still kneeling on the floor looking a little dazed and a lot confused, and then the look on Griffin’s face solidifies into something Brian doesn’t recognize.

He wheels towards Pat and extends a hand to pull him to his feet. He stares up at Pat, and, oh, Brian thinks that’s anger, he’s never seen Griffin angry, and he’s shot past terror straight out into space and he knows his whole body is shaking uncontrollably but he can hardly feel it.

He’s about to lose every single thing that he worked for, every single thing that was good in his life, just because he wanted Pat to suck his dick.

He can’t fucking believe himself.

“What did you _say_ to him, Patrick?” Griffin is saying, and Pat is stuttering — _I uh I didn’t really say anything_ — and Griffin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Patrick, you’re the love of my life and I adore you, but holy fucking _shit_, dude, I can’t believe you didn’t tell him anything first, Jesus god, look at him!” Griffin flings out a hand to gesture to Brian and Brian flinches. Griffin gentles somewhat. “I’m so sorry, Brian, let me just ditch my shit and I’ll be out of your hair.”

This is bizarre. This is the most confusing possible direction Griffin’s outburst could have turned.

“I thought he’d figure it out!” Pat says.

“How the fuck would he have figured it out, baby? Have you ever told him any of this?”

“...No.”

“What a disaster, good Lord, you better make it up to this poor man, if he even wants you to after this. You have to fucking _tell_ people this shit before you touch them!”

“I’m sorry,” Pat says, voice weird and tight.

“Don’t say that to me, say it to Brian!”

They’re just — they’re going back and forth like this — Griffin looks _dismayed_ but not at Brian, more at Pat, but not mad, more like frustrated — and Pat is defensive but not the kind of guilty that would mean that something’s irreparably wrong — and the words they’re saying, it doesn’t make sense —

Griffin glances at Brian, then does a double-take at whatever ghastly expression must be on Brian’s face. “Shit, Brian, I’m sorry, you haven’t done a single thing wrong,” Griffin says, and he looks between Brian and Pat and Brian again, and then Pat, and says, “Pat, go get him some tissues,” and Pat fucking scrambles.

Griffin sets his bag down by the couch and sits next to Brian, with a cautious foot of space between them. “Hey, bud. I’m so sorry. How can I help?”

Brian sniffs, and drags a hand over his face, and stares at him. Griffin offers an outstretched arm and Brian keeps staring at him, not knowing what to make of this.

“It’s okay,” Griffin says. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to be touched, I understand, but there’s no tricks going on here. I promise everything’s okay. He had my permission.”

So Brian carefully leans into Griffin and buries his face against his shoulder. “Even if it’s okay with you,” he says, hoarsely, “I still did it fully aware that you might _not_ be and I’m so sorry, you deserve so much better than that, I don’t know what’s _wrong_ with me.”

Griffin strokes his fingers over the nape of Brian’s neck, and Brian shudders, presses his face harder against Griffin’s shoulder, because fuck, if he’s about to get kicked out of here he’s apparently going to be selfish to the very last second.

But Griffin says, “Aw, Brian, it’s okay. I can’t fault you for wanting. I can’t even say I’d have done any different in your shoes. For, uh, for what it’s worth? We’re both into you.”

Brian jerks his head up to stare at Griffin, like he’s been shocked. He can’t even _breathe_, for fear of doing it wrong, of making Griffin realize no, he’s not worth it —

“We’ve had mutual standing permission to go for it with you if you were interested for, like, ages,” Griffin says. “I assume this motherfucker wanted to get your dick in his mouth faster than he could talk. Am I right, Patrick?” he says, with such affection, reaching out to pat Pat’s arm as Pat delivers a box of tissues.

Pat’s posture is hunched in on himself; he smiles sheepishly. It looks a little painful. “Not a very flattering analysis, but accurate,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Brian. I’m so sorry for putting you in that position. That was — that was real fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

Brian gives a watery uncomfortable sort of laugh and says, “Well, at least now you know I’d apparently fucking risk ruining all the good shit in my life and yours to let you suck my dick.”

“_Brian_,” Pat says, breathless-sad, and Griffin curls tighter around him, like he’s trying to shield him, protect him, from his own damn self-hatred. It’s nice, to be held like this, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, and then Pat sits down with them too and there’s some shuffling and half-asked questions and then Brian’s in Griffin’s lap with the blanket wrapped around his lower half and his legs across Pat’s lap and they’re both touching him so gently. Griffin’s arms are around Brian, and Brian’s face is pushed against his shirt, and Pat is holding one of Brian’s hands.

It’s too much. It’s too _much_.

Brian shatters, under the way Griffin pets his hair and his back, the way Pat strokes his thumb over Brian’s hand.

He sobs openly into Griffin’s shirt, the next phase of his panic attack finally hitting in full force.

Griffin makes gentle soothing noises at him, keeps petting at him. “I know, I know, baby, I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go. You got us now though, okay? I promise. If you want us, we’re yours.”

This makes Brian cry harder. He chances a quick look at Pat — his expression is drawn, closed-off, in a way Brian’s seen only under rare circumstances, like when something too personal accidentally gets said live, but worse. He buries his face into Griffin’s shoulder again, not wanting to see it.

“Brian, hon, is that something you want?” Griffin says.

Brian can hardly breathe around his body’s stupid goddamn panic response, but he nods frantically, gulping for air. “I want you so bad,” he manages to get out, stuttering on the sibilant. “Both of you,” he adds, clinging to Griffin. “I’m so sorry —”

“Hey, hey, no harm, no foul, right?” Griffin says.

“But I —”

“You know Pat,” Griffin says. “You know he’d never fuck with me like that. You may not have known for sure, but I know _you_, too, and you wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t at least mostly think that it was gonna be okay, am I wrong?” Brian doesn’t know how to reply to this, so he stays still, and Griffin keeps talking. “Nothing here was done wrong by me, except that I’m upset that you got hurt. You didn’t cause problems between any of us. You’re a fucking gift, and I’m glad you’re here. Can you tell me something?”

Brian nods.

“What are you feeling towards Pat right now?”

Brian feels Pat’s body twitch; Brian peeks at him again, and he’s staring at Griffin wide-eyed and terrified. It is a horrible expression to see on Pat’s face.

“I’m in l — I’m — I’m — I like him so much, I like you so much too, I — I — I risked my whole ass here, and his, and yours, just to do this with him, how do you think I feel about him? I’ve been gone on him for so long. I’m not mad. I’m _scared_. If I’ve ruined our entire — everything — Pat, I’m so sorry —”

“Please don’t apologize,” Pat says, his voice raw. “I’m the one who fucked up.”

Griffin gives Brian a little encouraging nudge and Brian fucking launches himself at Pat, wraps his arms around his neck and holds onto him with his whole body, and this is what finally breaks Pat. Pat pushes his face into Brian’s hair, drawing shuddering breaths, holding as tight to Brian as Brian is holding on to him. He murmurs soft fervent desperate apologies into Brian’s skull, _I’m so sorry I’m so fucking sorry you mean so much to me and I’m so sorry I did you wrong like this, I’m so sorry I scared you I’m so sorry I hurt you I’m so sorry I made you cry you deserve so much better than this you deserve every goddamn good thing in the world and not this_ —

Brian uncurls himself a little and tucks his face against Pat’s face and whispers, “If it’s okay with both of you then it’s okay with me, I’m not mad at you, I forgive you,” and then turns Pat’s head towards him.

Brian catches Griffin’s eye; Griffin nods, gives him a thumbs-up, and Brian gives a flash of a smile in response before turning back to Pat and laying a spectacular kiss on him. A whimper drives itself out of Pat; he twines his hands into Brian’s hair and wraps himself around Brian so they’re thoroughly tangled, kissing like they’ll die if they stop. Pat’s making needy raggedly-desperate wanting sounds that Brian _never_ imagined could come out of him.

Brian breaks away, gasping, and grabs for Griffin, pulls him in by his shirt and kisses him over Pat’s shoulder; Griffin cups Brian’s face in his hands and kisses him back, sweet as you please, as Brian’s hands fumble with Pat’s belt. Pat whines, high-pitched and earnest, as Brian shoves a hand down Pat’s pants, and Griffin pulls away to see what the cause of the sound is. Pat has tears in his eyes and he bucks up against Brian but he can’t hardly move, for the way they’re twined together.

Griffin huffs a laugh. “Oh, baby, you never got to come, did you?” Griffin says, and twists to bite the side of Pat’s neck, and Pat sobs. “Brian, d’you think he deserves it?”

“Oh please, _pleasepleaseplease_ Griffin,” Pat begs, and he’s actually crying, and Brian doesn’t think that’s sexy tears, he’s pretty sure that’s _real_ tears, and he’s pretty sure that he and Griffin realize at the same time that _yowza_ Griffin tripped right over a line, and he thinks from the wide-eyed look that Griffin’s about to slam the brakes but Brian thinks he can fix this.

“Of course he does,” Brian says, soft and gentle as he can, keeps working his hand on him, and Pat sobs again, his head thrown back. “Of course you do, baby, I’m not mad at you. Everyone makes mistakes. I could never hold it against you. I love you,” he says, and then _freezes_ in horror —

“I love you, I love you, I _love_ you,” Pat chants, gasping for breath, “Please, Brian, please — please, baby — I’ll never — I wanna be so good for you all the time, I never wanna do you wrong, please, please, I’m so sorry I fucked up so bad, I love you so much I wanna do right by you please give me a chance I swear I’ll do better, I’ll be better, I’ll be so good for you, Brian _please_ —”

“Of course, Pat Gill,” Brian whispers. “Of course. You’re so good. So good for me. You’re so beautiful. I’m gonna treat you so right, baby. Just like you’re gonna do for me. Tell me what you want, love, let me give it to you.”

“Please, please, _please_ let me come, d — _fuck — please_,” Pat gasps.

Brian talks him through it low and soft, _come on come on baby you can do it you’re so good, come for me baby, gonna feel so good, you’re so so good for me, let me see you, c’mon love you’re so beautiful, let me make you feel as good as you are_.

Pat’s whole body spasms as he clings to Brian as he comes, his forehead against Brian’s shoulder, breathing harsh and ragged, occasionally breaking on a helpless sort of sob, the kind that comes when you’ve been uncontrollably crying, his shoulders shaking. Brian presses kisses to Pat’s hair.

“You — you mean it?” Brian says softly, once Pat’s breathing has evened somewhat.

“I do,” Pat says. “I really do. I’m stupid in love with you. I’m so sorry I fucked this part up so badly.”

“I love you,” Brian says, breathless with wonder. He flicks his eyes over to Griffin, hopeful, questioning.

“Hey, I’m pretty crazy about you too,” Griffin says, and leans over to kiss Brian’s cheek.

“Hey, likewise,” Brian says, and can’t help but smile. He lingers nose-to-nose with Griffin for a moment, but then Pat starts to get fidgety and Brian turns his attention back to him. “Baby, you’ve made a whole mess, huh?”

“_I_ did?”

“Last I checked, that was your jizz,” Brian says, and Pat snorts. Brian tumbles off Pat’s lap and into Griffin’s, to let Pat get up and clean himself up. Brian flops over into Pat’s now-vacant spot, so he’s lying on his back, and pulls Griffin down over him to kiss him, languorous and slow and wanting. He rolls his hips, groans against Griffin’s mouth.

“Can’t fucking believe you’re hard again, ‘specially after all this drama,” Griffin mumbles, and Brian laughs.

“Still got that mid-twenties stamina, _bay-bey_,” he teases, and runs his hands down Griffin’s back to grab his ass. Griffin grunts as he rocks down against Brian’s cock, pushes his hands into Brian’s hair and pulls his head back to press his lips to Brian’s neck.

They’re amidst a mundane discussion about condoms when Pat walks back into the living room, a conversation that would be totally neutral on the scale of sexiness but for the fact that Griffin would essentially be riding Brian if Griffin wasn’t wearing pants and Brian wasn’t still tangled up in the blanket.

“Hi, Pat,” Griffin says.

“Hi, Pat!” Brian says.

“Should we take this to the bedroom,” Pat says, and Griffin and Brian both burst into giggles. 

“Your dick isn’t even _involved_ in this,” Griffin points out as he gets up off Brian and holds out a hand to help him up.

“I can _watch_, can’t I? I’d rather do that in bed than sit on the fuckin’ floor while you guys bone on the couch,” Pat says, as Brian lets himself be helped up. He lets the blanket fall to the floor and watches both their eyes track the newly exposed skin, and feels his face heat up.

He’s whisked off to the bedroom; upon arrival, there is a lot of unceremonious undressing, because as it turns out, three people have a lot of clothes between them. Pat strips the boxers and t-shirt he’d probably only just put on and catapults himself into the bed, strikes a pose on his side with one leg bent at the knee and a hand on his hip and winks at them to make them laugh. Brian’s hands are shaky, as he undoes the buttons of his shirt, from the sheer amount of overwhelming things he’s feeling, but he manages to shrug it off and leaves it on the floor to join Pat on the bed.

Pat rests his head on Brian’s shoulder as Griffin steps out of his jeans and hops up onto the bed. He’s fucking gorgeous — both of them are — and Griffin kneels next to Brian, grinning.

“So, like,” Griffin says, “can I ride you, or?”

“Anything you want, Griff,” Brian says. 

Griffin kisses him. “Yeah, but like, you gotta want it too,” he says.

“I _do_. Trust me. I’d tell you if I didn’t,” Brian says.

“Fair enough,” says Griffin, and straddles him. He kisses him slow and filthy, rolls his hips against Brian’s thigh — _Jesus fucking Christ he can feel how wet he is_ — eager and showy in a way that makes Pat’s breath catch next to Brian.

“Can I,” says Brian, tracing fingertips up Griffin’s thigh, “can I touch you please?”

Griffin goes _mmhmm_ and kisses Brian again, lifts his hips to let Brian between his legs. He moans against Brian’s lips as he presses two fingers into him, as Brian pushes in deep as he’ll let him, out and back in again, reveling in the smooth slick slide of the motion, the way Griffin bears down around him, adjusting to the feeling of Brian inside him.

“Fuck, Griffin,” Brian sighs, and he feels rather than sees Griffin smile. “You’re _perfect_, what the fuck.”

“Same to you, baby,” Griffin says. He takes Brian by the wrist and pulls his hand away, and Pat catches Brian’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, drags his tongue up the fingers that were just inside Griffin, and as Brian is staring breathlessly at that spectacle, Griffin sinks down on his cock and Brian whines. He’s sort of half-sitting, propped against pillows and against Pat’s shoulder, with Pat’s arm around him.

It’s overwhelming, how much he’s being touched at once, but in the best possible way, especially as Griffin leans in and kisses him again and Pat keeps kissing and sucking on Brian’s fingers and _Jesus Christ_ it all feels so good that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself, except then it turns out he doesn’t _have_ to do anything with himself, because Pat’s got one of his hands and Griffin laces his fingers with Brian’s free hand and holds it down against the mattress as he fucks himself on Brian’s cock.

“Let me, baby,” Griffin murmurs, when Brian tries to rock his hips up to meet Griffin. “I got you. I just wanna make you feel good, okay? Don’t worry ‘bout a thing.”

So Brian closes his eyes and drops his head back and moans, low and soft, as Griffin kisses him again and Pat presses his lips to the inside of Brian’s wrist. Griffin pushes his thumb into the, wow, the truly spectacular bruise Pat left on his hip earlier, and says, “Can I mark you up, pretty boy?”

“Please,” Brian gasps, and Griffin gets his mouth on Brian’s neck, and the arm Pat has around him moves to get a hand in Brian’s hair and give an experimental tug and Brian outright whimpers.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ good,” Pat says softly, his voice a low rumble at Brian’s side. “Look at you. Griff, isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Mm_hm_,” Griffin hums against the side of Brian’s neck. He is, wow, he is an impressive multitasker, because even as he sucks bruises into Brian’s skin he doesn’t let up on anything else, keeps riding Brian like it’s his fucking job, and Brian can feel his orgasm building from a mile away and he closes his eyes and whines. Pat pulls his hair again and Griffin sucks hot desperate kisses into Brian’s neck and they’re touching him everywhere, his whole _world_ is condensed to Griffin and Pat and it’s perfect, it’s everything he’s ever wanted thrown at him all at once and all he can do is take it, give himself over to them, let himself fall apart in their capable hands.

Brian pushes his face against Pat’s neck; Pat pulled him in closer, at some point, while he was still trying to catch his breath and piece his brain back together. Griffin is holding Brian’s hand tight, as Pat combs his fingers through Brian’s hair and presses a whisper-soft kiss to Brian’s temple.

“You okay, baby?” Pat says softly.

“Yeah,” Brian sighs, “just need a sec.”

“Take all the time you need,” Pat says, nuzzling his face against Brian’s, and Brian gives a sleepy-sated smile in response. He closes his eyes again, rests against Pat’s shoulder just to breathe. He has some goddamn bony shoulders, which is not exactly the peak of comfort, but it’s actually kind of grounding and when Brian straightens up again and blinks at Griffin he feels steadier.

“So I was thinking,” Griffin says, “and, like, if you’re done, Brian, that’s fair and we don’t have to do any of this, but like, you both got to come and I want Pat to eat me out, and Brian is more than free to watch.”

“Ooh, a masterclass in oral sex,” Brian says. “I’m in.”

Griffin laughs; Pat is blushing, and Brian kisses his cheek. “He’s fucking talented, right?” Griffin says.

“Love a man who’s good with his mouth,” Brian agrees, and tugs Pat in for another kiss before he moves out of the way for Griffin.

The two of them are lovely to watch together. Griffin winds both hands into Pat’s hair and pulls his head back to angle his chin up towards Griffin, who is perched in his lap. Pat touches Griffin eagerly, confident in a way Brian now realizes he hasn’t seen from him before.

Pat wraps his hands around the backs of Griffin’s thighs as Griffin settles over him, and sighs with his whole body, as if relieved, as soon as his face is between Griffin’s legs. Brian can’t see from this angle, but he’d bet any money that he’s wearing the same quietly rapturous look he’d had as soon as he got Brian’s dick in his mouth earlier.

The way Pat touches Griffin, holds him, the way Brian sees Pat’s mouth work — everything he does elicits a response, and every reaction from Griffin is chased again by Pat. Pat is doing something absolutely obscene with his tongue, Brian can tell, he catches quick glimpses of movement, and as Brian watches, he dips his fingers inside Griffin and Griffin moans and drops his head forward.

“C’mon, baby, _fuck_, so fucking good, so fucking good for me, _god_, yes, show Brian what you can do.”

“Pat, can I suck your dick,” Brian says, and Pat moans like it’s been ripped out of him. “Is that a yes?”

“Mm-_hmm_,” is the muffled reply, and Brian drops a kiss on Griffin’s hip and then scoots down the bed.

“Ooh, baby, you really are having dreams come true today,” Griffin says to Pat, but Brian privately thinks it applies to himself as well. “You’re gonna keep being good for me, though, aren’t you? No matter how nice he makes you feel.”

Brian doesn’t hear or see a response from Pat, but he must give one, because Griffin gives a pleased hum. “Good boy. Brian, when you’re ready.”

Jesus Christ, Brian hasn’t given a blowjob since college. Since _early_ college. Then he kept having long-term relationships with people who didn’t have dicks and okay enough with the performance anxiety, c’mon, no need to think about exes under these circumstances, gosh.

He drags the flat of his tongue up Pat’s cock and Pat’s whole body twitches in response. Brian gives an amused huff of an exhale and does the same thing again. His reaction isn’t so dramatic, this time, for Brian’s touch is anticipated, but Pat digs his heel into the sheets and Brian hears him moan. Encouraged, he takes the head of Pat’s cock into his mouth, mindful of his teeth, and wow he can see Pat’s core tighten as he fights the urge to snap his hips up and fuck Brian’s mouth.

Brian might not, like, be highly practiced, and he might not know what Pat likes specifically, but he knows what _he_ likes, and that seems as good a starting place as any. He bobs his head, takes more of him in his mouth, wraps his fingers around what he can’t.

Griffin’s talking, still — a string of praise and curses and instruction that seems to grow less coherent with each passing moment. Brian glances up at the perfect time; he gets to watch as Griffin gasps, as a shudder passes through him, as his hips roll in quick little circles, as Pat works him through it until he sighs and relaxes and moves away.

Brian realizes he’s accidentally completely stopped what he’s doing in favor of watching Griffin, so he reapplies himself diligently and Pat — who had just pushed himself up into a half-sitting position — collapses back against the bed and shoves his hands into his own hair and whines.

“Ooh, let me _help_,” Griffin says, and Brian’s not exactly sure how that’s going to be accomplished but moves out of Griffin’s way. “Oh, don’t let me stop you, you’re doing great. Just let me — where’d he put that bruise on you, baby? On your left?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he dips his head to suck a matching bruise into Pat’s right hip. Pat is — Pat is making a whole lot of noise, as Griffin holds him down and Brian keeps drawing those desperate sounds out of him until he gives a choked-off gasp, back arching off the bed, and comes.

Griffin pulls Brian off Pat’s dick by his hair and crushes their mouths together before Brian can even react to anything, licks Pat’s cum out of his mouth, keeps kissing him fervently until they break apart gasping for breath.

Griffin recovers first and _grins_, smug and excited, and turns to Pat. “How was that, babe?”

“Holy _shit_,” Pat says, breathless, and Griffin dives over to him and hugs him tight.

“C’mere, Gilbert, what’s the holdup?” Griffin says, making grabby hands at Brian, and _well okay if he insists_. Brian presses himself against Pat’s other side, mirroring Griffin so they’re both draped over him.

“Hey,” says Pat, and kisses Brian, slow and gentle for the first time. Brian sighs and leans into it. He refuses to be the one to pull away first, so they kiss languidly for a long time before Griffin gets impatient and cuts in. Brian lays his head on Pat’s chest as Griffin kisses Pat, just feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Pat runs his fingers through Brian’s hair, even as he’s being kissed by Griffin, and when Griffin sits back Pat turns to Brian again.

“Hey,” Brian says, trailing his fingers across Pat’s cheek. Pat smiles. His expression is soft in a way that is familiar, from when Pat talks about Griffin. He wants to — to say it again, to tell him that he — but he doesn’t know if it was just then that he said it and then they’ll have to wait until they’ve been together for ages to say it again — oh god are they even officially together?

“Are we, like, officially together?” Brian says, because _fuck that_, he’s not having any more miscommunications today.

Pat blinks. “I mean, yeah, I thought so?”

“Patrick, you really gotta work on that assumptions thing,” Griffin says, and kisses Pat’s cheek. “If you’d like to be, then yes, absolutely,” he adds to Brian.

“I’d like that very much,” Brian says quietly, and the delight on both their faces is matched evenly with the wave of relief that crashes over Brian. He glances at Pat, chewing on his lip, not sure how to say what he wants to say.

Pat pulls him in close, cards his fingers through Brian’s hair and presses his lips to his forehead, and waits him out.

It’s Griffin who speaks first. “Bri, do you know how me and Pat got together?”

“Oh _god_,” Pat groans, as Brian shakes his head.

“Do you want to tell it, or should I?” Griffin says.

“Well, on account of the fact that you can remember it, you probably should,” Pat says, a little gruffly, and Brian stares at him. Pat huffs a sort of self-effacing laugh. “It was, uh, it was New Year’s, and I got real fucked up and hooked up with Griffin, and I literally cannot remember anything about that night.”

“Holy _shit_,” Brian breathes.

“It was rough,” Pat agrees. “Griff didn’t know that I was that drunk — like, I mean, he was also drunk, but, like, a normal amount —”

“Either way, it was _not great, my dude_,” Griffin says. “We talked about it a lot, afterwards, and obviously it ended up okay, but it could have broken really, _really_ fucking bad. So. We’ve all made some big mistakes, here. What matters most is how we move forward from them.”

Brian fumbles for Griffin’s hand, takes it and holds tight.

“It was a mess, but I’m glad it happened,” Pat says. “It definitely wasn’t ideal. I wouldn’t choose to have done it that way. But it ended up with Griffin coming into my life right exactly when I needed him. And now, god, and now I fucked my way into a hot mess of a beginning of a relationship once again, and I’m really fucking sorry, Brian. I’ve been — god — I’ve been in love with you for, shit, a good long while, and Griff kept trying to get me to talk to you about it, but you seemed so — so distant after you had that breakup, and — and I didn’t want to step on your toes, if you were still hurting.”

“Well, hey, even if you stumbled into this with two left feet, I was on board from the start,” Brian says. “I’ve felt the same since — gosh, Pat, I don’t even know, I’ve loved you for — it feels like ages, and I never thought you’d feel the same. Didn’t even think there was a chance that you guys would be willing to bring in a third party. When you went for it earlier, I _hoped_ that it would be that you were polyamorous. But I didn’t say a fucking word. I was willing to be complicit in — I was —”

Griffin interrupts his stuttering. “I was willing to fuck Pat when we were both drunk. When he was wasted enough to have absolutely no memories of it. We all have things to be sorry for, even if they turned out okay. I’m not gonna tell you that you shouldn’t feel bad, because I know you’re gonna feel bad no matter what I say. I still feel fucking terrible about what I did, and it’s been more than a year. But I will say: it worked out. In the end, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got a boyfriend who loves you and a boyfriend who’s gonna as soon as he’s had half a chance to. I like you a whole fucking lot. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

Brian pulls both of them into a hug. Griffin falls over Pat and ends up on top of Brian with an _oof_, and then they’re both wrapped around Brian and Brian has his arms around them and one or maybe both of them are kissing his face and petting his hair and nuzzling against his cheek and Brian could cry of it, of the pure overwhelming affection being poured into him.

He drinks it in, and resolves to do everything he can to give them the same in kind.

And then Griffin licks Brian’s cheek and Brian says _EW_ and Griffin doubles over laughing and Brian gives an indignant huff and then Pat licks Brian’s other cheek in a strangely kittenlike fashion and Brian informs them through giggles that they are both the worst and he likes them both so very fucking much.

“C’mon, boys,” Griffin says, “I know you both wanna clean up and, like, probably have dinner or something.”

“I’m busy,” Pat says into Brian’s hair.

“What?” says Griffin.

“I’m busy cuddling Brian and I’m never leaving,” Pat says, wrapping his arms tighter around Brian. Brian snuggles into him for emphasis, and Griffin sighs and lays back down.

“Alright. Five more minutes,” he says, draping himself back over Brian. Brian pulls him in close and hums happily.

When Brian wakes up again, it’s dark, and his face is smushed against Pat’s chest, and Griffin is curled around Brian, and he thinks he may die of heatstroke between their bodies but, fuck, it’d be worth it.

“Are you staying over,” Griffin mumbles into Brian’s shoulder.

“Only if you let me shower.”

“That seems like a reasonable tradeoff,” Griffin says. “Want company? It’s gonna take Pat twenty minutes to drag himself out of bed, anyway.” Griffin pokes Pat’s arm and Pat grunts. “C’mon, babe,” Griffin says to the general audience, and Brian peels himself away from Pat — drops a quick kiss on his forehead; Pat smiles, eyes still closed — and follows Griffin out of the bedroom.

Brian leans against the shower wall as Griffin fusses with the temperature, half so he doesn’t get sprayed with cold water and half to appreciate Griffin’s ass. Griffin takes him by the wrist and tugs him over, wraps his arms around Brian’s waist. He’s just the slightest bit taller than Brian, which Brian hadn’t really appreciated until now that he tips his chin up to kiss him.

“How are you doing, baby?” Griffin says, tucking Brian’s hair behind his ear. It’s gone flat, now that it’s wet, and hangs limply around his face, probably as long as Pat’s. He wonders how long they’re both going to hold out before one of them gets a haircut so they don’t continue to look like palette-swapped versions of each other.

“I’m alright,” Brian says, and thinks he might actually mean it, now. “It was a little — uh — a little rough there for a little bit.”

“Uh, yeah it was. Good god, Brian, if I go the rest of my life never seeing the face you made when I walked in the door ever again I’ll be fucking grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so scared.”

“I really had no idea what you were going to do,” Brian says, as Griffin prods at him to get him to kneel so he can wash his hair. He keeps talking as he obliges. “Like, I catastrophize. It’s a thing. So of course I immediately went to the worst possible outcome, like, what if this breaks you guys up and then I’m responsible for that and then Pat resents me and that fucks up shit at work and I’d never see you again and — y’know. Worst of all possible worlds. And obviously that _didn’t_ happen, but you immediately went off on Pat and I didn’t know how to take that, either —”

“I do regret that,” Griffin says, as he works shampoo into Brian’s hair. “I definitely came on pretty fuckin’ strong. I’m really sorry for freaking you out like that.”

“It’s okay,” Brian says, leaning into the touch. “I think even under the best of circumstances, anyone would be surprised to walk in on that.”

Griffin laughs. “That’s a fair point! I definitely was not expecting to come home to Pat sucking your dick, no matter how much of an appealing concept that is. It is, by the way, an extremely appealing concept, and I think it’s tragic that I missed out on the good part. I honestly didn’t even know you’d be here today.”

“Not to sound judgmental, but like, does Pat have trouble communicating about shit?”

“He’s gotten a lot better, believe it or not,” Griffin says. He cups his hand against Brian’s forehead, so water doesn’t run into his eyes. “He’d, like, recently been through a lot of shit when we first got together, so he was trying to handle that and also being in a new relationship and I won’t lie, there were times when it was really hard. Especially when I was living in Austin. Sometimes he’d drop off the face of the earth for days and, wouldn’t you know it, it was _always_ because something bad happened and he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“God, that’s the worst part about long-distance relationships. It’s like, you know something’s wrong, and you can’t do anything at all.”

“Fucking exactly. So that took a lot of effort from both of us to, like, be on the same page. I do the catastrophizing thing too — goddamn anxiety — so I’d be worrying myself sick, and he’d be over here internalizing all his shit, it was such a mess. But, like, we both wanted to do better, y’know? We were like, okay, this is not good, this is not working for either of us, how can we fix it. Turns out he doesn’t really like to text about heavy shit, prefers to actually talk it out, so we started calling each other more, and turns out it helps me to hear his voice and remind myself he’s safe.”

“Is that why you moved?”

“It was part of it, for sure. Like, okay, this is gonna sound cheesy as hell, but it didn’t take long for me to go, _shit, I’m keeping him_. You know? He’s great. I love him to death. So when his roommate bailed and he didn’t have anyone to live with, I was like, well, we’re gonna end up in the same place one way or another eventually, and this is as good of a sign as anything. And wouldn’t you know it, it helped so fucking much to have us both in the same physical location when shit got rough. Like, damn, I don’t have panic attacks when he goes ghost for half a week ‘cause he lives with me and can’t exactly do that, and he doesn’t isolate himself and stop responding to me when he’s anxious ‘cause… well, ‘cause he lives with me and can’t exactly do that either.”

“That does seem like it’d help with communication.”

“It _does_. It was an adjustment, though, because sometimes the instinct to isolate can manifest as getting angry or shutting down, and that’s never fun, but, it hasn’t happened like that in a long time. If I can hypothesize — and I will — I would guess he was straight-up not used to talking shit out. He doesn’t talk a lot about his last partner, but I get the sense that they didn’t do a lot of, uh, talking about stuff, by the end there. So sometimes he just… won’t. Half the time it’s not even out of anything other than him figuring it doesn’t need to be said. You heard him earlier — he assumed you’d inferred the situation and that he didn’t need to spell it out. He’s a sweetheart, I love him dearly, but he’s working through a lot and things can be bumpy sometimes.”

“Gosh, Griffin, I’ve been in long-distance relationships where my partners were on a different _continent_ since I was in college. I get the bumpiness. That doesn’t intimidate me or anything. I’m a hell of a communicator, for what it’s worth. I like to have everything laid out as neatly as possible,” Brian says, getting back to his feet.

Griffin laughs. “From what I’ve seen of your spreadsheets, I can tell.”

“It’s hard to know what another person is thinking. You can’t always tell if you’re gonna mess something up until it happens. I like to know ahead of time, whenever it’s possible. I think, uh, doubly so, when it comes to having multiple partners. I’ve never had — like — a triangle, y’know, it’s been more of a V-shape for my past experiences, so I can’t say I’m an expert, but I’m sure we’re all gonna have to talk out a bunch of stuff, probably sooner rather than later.”

“Are you guys talking about talking?” says Pat’s voice, from the other side of the shower curtain. Griffin peeks out at him.

“We sure are! It’s very meta,” Griffin says. “Care to join?”

“I get the feeling I’m gonna be dragged into it whether I want to or not,” says Pat, and pulls the shower curtain aside to get in with them. The shower is not really meant for three people, so Brian starts to back up and lean against the wall, let Pat and Griffin share space, but Griffin nudges Brian towards Pat and, well, okay, he’ll take that! Pat wraps his arms around Brian, kisses his forehead, and Brian rests his head against his shoulder. “You doing okay?” Pat says.

“Yeah. Glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Pat says.

“Are you alright?”

Pat takes a pause to seriously consider this. “Yeah, I am.”

“We were gossiping about you,” Griffin says.

“You know, funnily enough, I got the feeling that that was the case, too,” Pat says. “Let me guess: I have wicked anxiety, sometimes I shut everyone the fuck out, and I’m bad at talking.”

“You’re not bad at talking,” Griffin says. “You’re just working against a pattern of internalizing shit instead of talking through it.”

Brian gets the feeling they’ve had this conversation many times over, from the way Pat sighs. “Yeah, okay. This is what happens when I let Griffin into my therapy sessions,” Pat says, and he sounds exasperated, but when Brian looks up at him he’s smiling, looking at Griffin, who leans around Brian to steal a kiss. “Asshole knows all my goddamn neuroses,” Pat adds, in what Brian can now read as affectionate and unserious exasperation.

Brian wants to say — he doesn’t know what he wants to say. He wants to press his face against Pat’s chest with Griffin at his back and stay like this for the rest of the night. “I’m not gonna ask you to get into your own personal stuff tonight,” Griffin says, finding Brian’s hand and holding it. “I’m sure you’ve had more than enough emotional shit for the day.”

“You’re telling me,” Brian mumbles into Pat’s pecs. “Get ready, though, ‘cause I’m gonna communicate your asses off.”

Pat sighs. “My first instinct is to complain, but I feel like that’s gonna be good for me, much as you might have to drag me into it.”

“Nah, you’re doing fine. Even what you just said is really good,” Brian says. “You don’t gotta be perfect. You just gotta be trying. We’re all doing our best here, and I know you are.”

“I love you,” Pat says, warmly, appreciatively, and it hits Brian so hard in the chest that all he can do is cling to Pat, a little breathless, and whisper it back against the side of his neck. Pat takes Brian’s face in his hands and kisses him, slow and sweet and gentle, until Griffin slides in to take Brian for himself.

They finally manage to get out of the shower once the hot water runs out, complaining in tandem and flinging towels at each other until they’re mostly dry. Brian steals a shirt of Griffin’s and a hoodie of Pat’s and underwear from god-only-knows-which that has little Mario-looking mushrooms on it.

Pat herds Brian into the living room at some unspoken communication between him and Griffin, parks him on the couch and kisses his head. “Griff’s gonna make food and I’m gonna throw some laundry in, ‘kay? You just chill. Turn on a movie or something if you want,” Pat says.

“You got all that from just looking at each other?”

Pat shrugs, smiling a little. “We know each other pretty well.”

“Goddamn. Hey, can you get my phone from my pants?”

Pat snorts and tracks down Brian’s jeans from where they were hastily discarded earlier, and hands him his phone. He has a couple missed texts from Laura — fair enough, he’s been here for — wow, for way longer than he thought.

Laura  
  
**Today** 4:15 PM  
When are you going to b home  
Will you pick up food on the way  
**Today** 6:26 PM  
Helloooo  
**Today** 8:03 PM  
If you’re hooking up with pat and/or griffin and not getting me food i’m going to be so mad at u  
Jk if you are that’s cool i hope ur having fun and if not oops i am sorry but either way >:( i don’t want to make dinner this is so rude  
**Today** 8:45 PM  
sorry lmao i def was doing that  
  
OMFG  
i’m staying over here jsyk. sorry bout the dinner i’ll grab something on my way home tomorrow  
  
That’s why you’re my favorite baby brother  
Everything go ok? Are they cool?  
they’re great. it was wild  
  
EW  
NOT LIKE THAT!!!!  
  
like as in we had 87 miscommunication dramas and it was a whole deal but it’s all good now!! and ur fave sweet baby brother officially has 2 bfs B)  
  
I’m glad it worked out! If they hurt u in any way i will kick their butts and u can quote me on that  
that’s why ur my fave big sister  
  
I know :-)  
nerd  
  
i’ll text you when i’m omw home ok?  
  
Ok! Talk to you tomorrow! Be safe :P  
:rolling_eyes:  
  


Pat appears again and kisses Brian’s cheek as he sits down next to him. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, and Brian fucking _giggles_ and pulls him into a hug.

“Hey, you,” Brian says, and Pat gives a pleased hum and pushes himself into Brian until Brian gives in and leans back against the armrest, pulls his legs up into the couch so Pat can lay on top of him. He tucks his face against the side of Brian’s neck, and Brian runs his fingers through his hair. He’s warm and he smells good and it’s so incredible to have another person against him like this, with Pat’s breath and heartbeat this close to his own; he marvels at it. “This is so dumb and cheesy, but I swear to god all I wanna do is keep telling you that I love you?”

“That’s cute as hell,” Pat says. “And, honestly, me the fuck too. Can I ask the dumb cheesy question?”

“Go for it.”

“When did you realize? Like, what made you go, oh shit?”

Brian laughs. “It really _was_ an oh-shit situation. God, it had to have been a _Gill & Gilbert_. Oh. _Oh_, I remember, it was the one — the one with the pore strips? You kept touching my face, and your face went all funny when I touched your hair, and then I said _love you_ as a joke for a segment and you said it back but all garbled ‘cause your face was underwater and it — like — it hit me all at once, that oh fuck I actually meant it, and then I put that shit on lockdown until I got home because no time for an existential crisis on a livestream!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I hate having existential crises on livestreams.”

“What about you?”

“It took me a long time. I had a feeling that you might be into me after the _Shadow of the Colossus_ episode —”

Brian groans. “God, don’t _remind_ me, I had such a big ol’ reaction to being lifted, it’s embarrassing.”

“It was cute. Also hot. But I didn’t know, like, at the time, that it would be okay with Griffin, so I crushed it down until one day I came home and found him watching one of our videos and he looked up at me and was like ‘Brian’s fuckin’ hot, don’t you think?’ and I freaked right the fuck out.”

“Oh _no_,” Brian says.

“It’s okay! It was okay. He was totally goading me into talking about it, it was very sneaky and underhanded, and he knew I was probably gonna panic about it. Thank god he sleuthed it out, somehow, I dunno how he did —”

“You’re fucking obvious, is how!” Griffin calls from the kitchen. “You talk about him every five seconds, it is adorable and not subtle!”

“Okay, so that’s how he figured it out,” Pat says, as Brian snickers. “But either way, once I chilled out and got past the whole being-defensive bit, Griffin was like, okay so like, if you wanna date him you can, and if he wants to date both of us that’s _also_ cool but not mandatory, and I was like well how the fuck can I tell him that, and apparently I never answered that question because Griffin did the talking,” Pat says, with a short exhale of a self-conscious laugh. “So I’m glad both of you have your shit together on that front, ‘cause I’m still working on it.”

Brian kisses his head. “I’m proud of you. It sounds like you’ve come a long way.”

Pat hums. “Still not where I wanna be, though.”

“Hey, that’s okay. You’re gonna get there, and I’m gonna stick around through all of it. You’re not gonna scare me off, ‘specially not after today.”

Pat scoffs, but Brian persists.

“I’m more than willing to be patient. Everyone has things that are hard for us. I’m super neurotic about plenty of shit. And it might be hard! I’ve had mostly text-based relationships for _years_, and from what I hear, that’s not necessarily your forte. So we work on it! We find what works for us. No rules just right, baby.”

“You are such a dork.”

“So are you!”

“You’re both professional gamers, you’re both massive nerds,” Griffin chips in. “Come be cute and in love while you eat dinner.”

“Romantic,” Pat says, and picks himself up off of Brian, then offers a hand to pull Brian to his feet.

“I dunno, I feel pretty romanced!” Brian chirps, skipping into the kitchen to fling his arms around Griffin before he sits down. Griffin steals a kiss. “Ooh, we should figure out _dates_, we can check our calendars and see when —”

“Oh my _god_, first calendar coordinating, give it a week and next thing you know he’ll be making a spreadsheet of what we like to do in bed —”

“Don’t test me, Griffin, I’ll fucking do it. Don’t think I won’t.”

“All I like to do in bed is sleep,” Pat says, feigning disdain, and Brian throws a napkin at him.

“You _liar_.”

“One time Pat went down on me for, like, a whole afternoon ‘cause we wanted to see who would tap out first.”

“Who was it?”

“We gave up at pretty much the same time, if memory serves,” Griffin says. “I’d love to see what you can do, if you’re interested, Brian.”

“Oh _gosh_,” Brian says, and Griffin and Pat both snicker. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Griffin tips his head back as he laughs. “Oh, I like you!”

“I’m nothing if not dedicated,” Brian says solemnly. “Also you’re hot as hell and I like you a real lot, too.”

“Good! I sure hoped so,” Griffin teases. “You free Saturday?”

Pat puts his face in his hands and Brian laughs, delighted. “As a matter of fact, I am!”

“It’s a date,” Griffin says, definitively, and not even Pat manages to hide his smile at that.

“It’s a date,” Brian agrees, and feels warm and light from the inside out when Pat reaches for his hand and holds it on top of the table, when Griffin reaches out and puts his hand on top of theirs. 

Not even Pat lifting their hands up and saying “Go, team!” and totally, completely, entirely killing the moment can change that. Griffin throws his head back in laughter and Brian groans so that he doesn’t and Pat looks altogether too pleased with himself and Brian can’t even imagine it’s possible to be happier than he is right now.

And yet, he knows it can only get better from here.

**Author's Note:**

> i kept thinking this fic was finished and then they KEPT TALKING!! gotta work shit out i guess!!!!
> 
> segmentcalled on twitter where i make 100 tweets about overboard and complain about this 75k patbri that im so close yet so far from finishing  
comments and kudos give me the strenght 2 go on


End file.
